So touch me down in the past
by soundsaboutright
Summary: During a make out session, teenage insecurities flare up and the conversation takes a turn none of the boys would have expected. Starts out fluffy, goes on exploring some stuff below the surface, including family relations.  Chapter 2 with family moments:
1. where my mother will last

_Author's note: _

_Just a snippet of a conversation, really, I just got intrigued by the idea of it. And I kind of like the awkwardness about it. Whatever that says about me._

_Leave reviews, please, I want to know what you think!:)  
><em>

_This is set some time after they got together, obviously. _

_I don't own them, or Glee_.

* * *

><p>Kurt's hand had been at Blaine's hip for the better part of the last 10 minutes. Kneading shyly, hooking a finger into the belt loop of Blaine's jeans, tugging and releasing, grip tightening then loosening.<p>

One side effect of that had been that Blaine's shirt had worked itself up high enough so that an accidental finger had brushed over the sliver of exposed skin above his waist band two times already.

The other was that it was driving Blaine crazy. In a good way, but still.

He instinctively tried to reposition himself on the couch they both were sitting - well, lying on, rather, trying to get even closer to Kurt, deepening the kiss their lips had been playing with for a while now.

Blaine's hands found some lever on the cushions next to Kurt, as he was trying to shift his weight and sort of climbing on top of Kurt, when Kurt's hand got involuntarily caught up between their bodies in the movement, and pressed against Blaine at a very private part for a second.

Kurt's arm jerked back immediately and then his face scrunched up in a fleeting grimace, colouring vividly.

Kind of dumbfounded though he was, Blaine was laughing before he could stop himself.

"What was that?"

Kurt's blush just deepened. Blaine snickered.

"Kurt, Your face, you just..."

"What's wrong with my face?"

Now Blaine could hear the irritation in Kurt's tone as well. Startled he considered Kurt more carefully.

Sure, the past had shown it was a critical issue with them, but that face, it had not been...? No. Blaine decided to trust his instincts and sobered up a little.

"You just looked like something was wrong."

At that Kurt's eyes closed shortly and his expression straightened a little again, but he was squirming underneath Blaine.

"No, it's okay, I just... nothing's wrong, I just hate the way...well." Blaine listened up cautiously, as Kurt hesitated.

"I hate the way... I jump and blush, and feel so..."

"You feel so what?" Blaine had made his voice very soft now.

Kurt rolled his eyes. More at himself than at Blaine, at least that was what Blaine was hoping.

"...Self-conscious, okay? But doesn't everyone? I just feel ashamed, sort of."

"Why?"

Kurt threw his hands up and actually inched away from him now, so that Blaine had to sit up.

"I don't know why! I just do... when I'm being... I don't know, obvious like that."

Blaine was laughing again before he could check himself at Kurt's half-glare.

"Obvious? You're not..." He decided to change the angle again, since he could see how his light and mindless tone was not helping his cause. Much.

"So, what's wrong with that?"

Kurt was getting impatient.

"I don't know, it's just, I feel like I shouldn't be. There's just this voice in my head, telling me, like..."

"Whose voice?"

Kurt looked up genuinely startled.

"What? No one's...? Mine I guess? No one's. I don't know."

"You don't ?"

Now Kurt was actually laughing, tone only slightly mocking.

"No, Blaine's what's this? Do _you_ know?"

Blaine lowered his eyes, retreating a bit.

"No, Of course not, I'm not... " He was acting on impulse here, he didn't even now what he was getting at. Like, that had worked so very well for him in the past, but anyway.

"I'm just curious. So... are you uncomfortable then?"

Kurt's answer was immediate.

"No! It's just... I sometimes get that weird feeling, like I'm watching myself from the outside..."

Blaine just sat for a moment, considering that, wide eyed and lips slightly opened, taking Kurt in, like he did sometimes, trying to figure Kurt out.

Kurt looked at him then faltered, trying to resume a good natured manner.

"It's nothing, Blaine, can we just..."

"Kurt." Blaine waited for Kurt to meet his eyes again, but he never quite brought them up high enough.

"I'm self-conscious as well."

"Yeah." It was something short of a snort, but Blaine felt that Kurt's heart was not in it. He leaned in a little more.

"Of course, very..." Kurt moved his head in a kind of nod like he did not know where to look, but there was actually half a smile on his face.

"So, now hat we got _that_ cleared..." Kurt made it sound playful enough that they both chuckled, and Kurt's hand reached out to come to lightly grab Blaine's jeans at his ankle, as Blaine had brought up one leg to sit more comfortably turned towards Kurt.

But other than that neither of them moved.

The silence stretched, but it was not an uncomfortable one.

"Your Mom, you were eight when she died, right?" When he spoke, Blaine had no idea where that had come from, but he looked up at Kurt gauging his reaction.

And some reaction he got. Kurt was struck, sitting straight up.

"My Mom?...How... why... why are you talking about my Mom now?"

Blaine brought his hands up at the force behind Kurt's words.

"Nothing, I am just curious, I just wondered, is all..." He didn't even convince himself there, but he honestly didn't know better.

Kurt was all but flustered.

"You... we talk about... what we have talked about and then you bring up my Mom? Great, just... I can't even..."

"Kurt!" Now it was Blaine who faltered. " I... okay, that was maybe a little... awkward..."

"Or inappropriate..." Kurt had locked his arms before his chest, but already the heat was leaving his voice a little.

Blaine shrugged tentatively. "We just never... have talked about her before, I mean, like really."

"And so you thought _now_ was maybe the right time for that?" Kurt's tone was clipped, eyebrows raised high.

Blaine gestured helplessly.

"Kurt, can you just snap out of it already? I just... I don't even know, why I thought of it now... I... just can't forget, what you said, that time when you talked about... porn..."

At that Kurt winced visibly, head slowly shaking with eyes even wider than before, staring like he could will the words to stop from connecting inside his head.

Blaine hurried to move on.

"You said that how you would think that they had all mothers and what would their mother's say."

The shaking of Kurt's head increased with his indignation about where this was going. He couldn't almost bring himself to sit still with his whole body strung so tight.

Blaine had no idea why he was still talking, but there seemed no other way out of it.

"But apart from what you said... I just figured, with the way you grew up, of course your mother would have a great influence on you..."

Kurt stared at him for that, his tone almost chilled.

"Blaine, my Mom wasn't even there for the greater part of my life."

Blaine had their eyes connect.

"Exactly." He let it sink in.

Then he made sure his tone was all warmth and affection.

"I think it's only natural that you cling to the parts inside yourself that remind you of her..." Kurt's look had dropped to his own hands in his lap.

"For yourself... but for your Dad as well, I don't know, to honour her memory...

I mean it's easy to see when you look at the way you and your Dad are together, that... you filled in a little... "

Kurt blinked and cocked his head slightly, but he still was not looking up, and his shoulders were tense as before.

Blaine took a breath.

"I mean, now he's got Carol, but...

I bet you love it, when he tells you how you are so much like her, like your Mom, and there is nothing wrong with that..."

Blaine's eyes had strayed a little from Kurt's unmoving form as he was trying to convey his thoughts.

Kurt chose that moment to speak.

"What are you getting at?" His voice was reserved, but there was a tinge of interest as well.

"I'm not... I don't know, really. I just wanna talk about it..." Kurt studied him with a thoughtful yet somewhat hard stare that seemed to soften only reluctantly.

Blaine sat up a little straighter and brought his hands down on the expanse of smooth couch cover between them, but didn't dare do more.

"I mean you were eight. Of course you knew her, but there is just so much she never got to talk to you about, 'cause you were just a kid..."

Blaine braced himself even if he did not know exactly what for, and looked directly at Kurt again when he continued.

"I'm sure, if she was anything like you, and, really, just being a mother, that she would have loved you unconditionally and... she would understand... and never judge you or want you to feel guilty ..."

At that he saw Kurt shift again, flexing his jaws like something was once more decidedly going against the grain, and the irritation was back full on as he ground out:

"God, Blaine, are you talking about sex here again now, because I don't..."

Blaine almost stumbled in his response. "No, that's not what I want to say here, I...maybe... "

Blaine wrecked his brain to find another angle for what he was not even so sure himself he was trying to say or do here.

"Kurt, your memory of her, you were eight!" Blaine felt his hands gesture for the right words he could not seem to find.

"I mean, from then on she lived... in you, and I am sure you still would look to her for guidance, but it was actually your mind that answered, that created an extension of her..."

Blaine was not even sure Kurt had listened to Blaine's attempts at explanation any more when Kurt cut him short, his voice decided in more protest and indignation.

"I am not thinking of my Mom when I...when... I... God, I'm not gonna forgive you for this... ! "

By then Kurt's head was in his hands, and for a moment he looked more miserable than angry.

Blaine couldn't help but feel guilty and really discontent with himself and where this had gone.

"Kurt. Please. I was not saying that..." Kurt flared up again.

"Well it sounded enough like you were, and why did you... and now I will surely think of... when GOD!" He threw his hands from his face and flung himself against the backrest of the couch rather roughly.

Blaine was actually silent for a long moment.

When he found his voice it sounded distant to himself.

"Well, if that happens maybe you... can make some peace with her?..."

Blaine actually tried a half-smirk after that, although he had no idea if it would do him any good right now. But there was also honesty in his tone, although he still wasn't even sure what he was saying.

Kurt just threw him another exasperated look, but more than anything now his voice sounded really tired.

"Now that is just creepy, thanks Dr. Phil... I will not..." He let it trail, at a loss for words eventually as he just let them run dry.

That was it. That was more than Blaine could take.

He slumped down in his seat and inched over to Kurt to pull him into a hug.

Kurt's whole frame was rigid and resistant and he took a sharp breath through his teeth at the contact. For a moment Blaine as much as expected Kurt to push him away.

He would even have understood.

But to Blaine's surprise the awkwardness faded, and even if Kurt just kind of hung inside the circle of Blaine's arms after a while, Kurt looked only confused and not angry anymore.

Blaine still felt a pang , and wondered if that was even worse. He had no idea what was going through Kurt's mind then, but he just let it work, too relieved that Kurt at least let himself be held.

"Kurt, I'm sorry, I don't really know what that was." Murmured against the side of Kurt's neck. Then Blaine moved away to chance a shy look at Kurt.

Kurt just nodded absently, head to full of thoughts and eyes wide with them. Blaine's breath hitched inwardly, but he let the moment linger and almost jumped slightly, when Kurt spoke eventually.

"Can we just... talk about something else?"

"Sure." The word was such an utter sigh of relief that Blaine almost did not recognize his own voice. He hurried to smile at Kurt, who still looked like he was not through with the matter but had made the resolution to not dwell on it now. Maybe later, when he was alone, Blaine mused with a slight feeling of guilt again, but he just deepened his smile, hoping to get through.

"Did I tell you what the Warbler's plans are for their next performance?"

Kurt shook his head no just for the sake of enabling a conversation and Blaine readily began to talk.

And after while Kurt started to throw in comments again in his best cheerful mood, and they laughed together, and he even let Blaine kiss him some more.

* * *

><p>Let me know what you think:)<p> 


	2. Epilogue: Musica universalis

Author's note: Reviews anyone? Because I rather like this little piece, the first as much if not more than the second chapter, even if I cannot exactly pinpoint why, but I would love to hear what you think.

* * *

><p><strong>Epilogue: Musica universalis<strong>

Kurt lay awake that night. Many thoughts were on his mind, some of them seemingly at the same time. After a while he just resigned to having each one play itself out at its own pace, testing their feel rather than actively trying to make sense of them.

The things Blaine had said were there, but mostly thoughts and sensations, that this conversation had inspired.

Kurt didn't feel that he had to make peace with his Mom.

And he wasn't sure he agreed with what Blaine had been suggesting, if Kurt had even caught his meaning correctly.

Yet, there were things that his boyfriend had said, that touched something in Kurt, although he couldn't always put his finger on them or what exactly it was that they did to him.

But it felt good to actually be thinking about his Mom again for some time.

Not that she was not always on his mind anyway, somehow.

He thought of her every time he saw poppies. They had been her favourite.

So, now, anything closely the shape or colour of them made his mind flash with the thought of her.

He didn't always go deeper into it, of course, when that happened. It was just that it brought itself to his awareness with a fleeting glimpse of her, to then vanish again into the depths of his mind. The word Mom. A scent, a fragment of a memory, a feeling of warmth, or of loss.

But beneath all that, all of him, he was sure she was always there somehow, even if she wasn't in his conscious thoughts.

She was that hum all along his subconscious.

His music of the spheres.

He had always liked the images that popped up in his head at hearing this term.

Someone had talked to him about it, but he couldn't recall who or even when. A teacher at the end of grade school perhaps, but he wasn't sure. He also doubted if that someone had explained it correctly, or if Kurt had fully understood at the time what it was supposed to mean, because when he had researched it quite a bit later on the internet, the descriptions he would find had sounded so different.

What it read there was, that the music of the spheres, or universal music, was a philosophical concept, that said that this music was not audible, thus not music per se and as commonly understood, but that the set of mathematical rules according to which the universe moved, according to which the planets moved in their spheres, followed absolute musical rules, creating harmony. Something like that.

What his imagination had done with it back when that someone had talked to him about it, was something different.

He had pictured a model of the world, like someone once must have had it, must have thought it up, where the earth was a ball surrounded by spheres made of glass or crystal, one inside each other, like a Babushka doll, but perfectly round, crystal ball inside crystal ball, each sphere holding a planet or star. To make those stars move around the world in the patterns that could be perceived, the spheres had to move against each other in their perfect fit.

The sounds that were created by this friction, by that rub of bodies of celestial glass against each other, that was to him the music of the spheres, an ethereal, eternal composition of sounds.

And every being on earth must hear it, always, and therefore can never really become aware of it.

Because the sounds just were ever present, from the day you came into existence, from the day you could hear, they were already and always there. And so it was them, that defined your concept of silence.

There was no ever being without it, this music, in this world, and so it blended in with your reality, no, more like, your very reality was founded upon it.

Kurt didn't know, if maybe the philosophical theory had passed this stage or a similar one at some point in history, but it didn't matter to him, he liked this idea, what his mind had made of it, better than anything else he'd found.

And especially right now.

Because it was her. This was what his Mom was to him. She was his music of the spheres.

His concept of himself was with her ever present, as part of himself, the foundation to his reality, his way of thinking, of perceiving the world.

Her morals, her compassion, her flawless heart.

Was that what Blaine had spoken of, in a way?

Kurt took a deep breath. It might just have been that. At some point of their conversation at least. Yet, the thought brought back other things that Blaine had said, and Kurt weighed and pondered each one in his mind.

Of course Kurt tried to model himself after his mother.

And how could he not? In his memory she had become this perfect human being, all that he ever aspired to be. And maybe that was just the thing. Because he had to admit now, that over all that idealizing her perfection, she might have lost a bit of her humanity along the way, under the hand lens of his imagination.

Of course she couldn't have been perfect in that sense, because no human being ever was.

An ideal was something that was outside of reality with reality itself reaching out for it but never making contact.

It was impossible to fulfill, just by its very definition.

She had not been perfect, of course, when she'd been alive. And that was a good thing, because it now felt to Kurt like it somehow kept her almost close enough to touch.

Kurt tossed himself onto his side.

Still, what Blaine had said, was a step too far going somewhere Kurt could not follow. Yet.

The words sex and Mom just wouldn't go easily together in one sentence for him.

In some distant part of his mind he knew, that his Mom must have had..., well, done stuff, because he was living proof.

But no one ever willingly thinks of his parents like this, do they? Kurt involuntarily pressed his lids shut tightly, but then released them, looking at the ceiling, as if he wished he could see through it.

Still, he had to admit, that maybe it was a good thing to think of her as merely a human being, too.

Human beings simply got messy. They made mistakes. They died.

Kurt blinked several times at the thought and felt his throat tighten.

Then his body just moved.

He threw his legs out from under the covers and sat up, then went down the stairs on bare feet, to get a glass of milk in the kitchen.

Gripping onto it tightly, he entered the dim living room, where his parents sat comfortably on the couch, watching TV.

Well, they weren't really watching anymore, his dad had turned the volume down and Carole was already dozing off in the circle of his arm.

Kurt wordlessly sat down into the armchair at their side, pulling his legs up, hugging them, still holding onto the glass of milk, that his lips had yet to touch.

Burt acknowledged his son's presence from the corner of his eye, gave a small smile and a gentle huff.

"Can't sleep, kid?" Kurt just shook his head no.

Carole stirred a little in Burt's arm and smiled warmly at Kurt as well.

And for a while, Kurt was content to simply sink into the cosy silence inside the room, to slump in his chair letting himself be wrapped up in it, and he found he was almost fine with the idea of allowing the muffled sounds of the TV to lull him to sleep.

Then he remembered what had brought him here.

He made his voice soft. "Dad?"

Burt gave a throaty sound in reply so Kurt knew he was listening.

"Dad, tell me again how you met Mom, please?"

Now Burt turned his head to look at his son, and Kurt saw the thoughts work behind sensitive green eyes. The request was familiar but Kurt had not made it for several years now. Burt's eyes narrowed and Kurt guessed what was going through his father's mind. "I'm not sleep walking, Dad, I'm awake."

Burt took a deep breath.

"Kurt, you know the story." He angled his head to look down at Carole now, who had opened her eyes again to study Kurt with a hint of worry in her expression.

A thought hit Kurt and he felt his cheeks heat up. "Carole, I'm sorry! I did not mean any offence to you, I just..." He began to stammer. "It... it just has been on my mind, and I'd really like hearing it again."

Carole lifted her head from Burt's shoulder to give Kurt the most reassuring, gentle smile. "Oh, sweetie, of course, you wouldn't, I didn't take it like that!" Then she cocked her head a little at her husband in the slightest gesture. "And actually, I would love to hear the story, too." Kurt sat up a little straighter.

Burt let out a defeated grumble, and a good-natured grunt, then leaned his head back to look at either one them one after the other for a prolonged moment.

When he'd watched Carole reaching for the remote control on Burt's lap to switch off the TV, and Kurt taking an expectant sip of his milk, Burt began to talk.

Kurt listened to the melody of that voice telling the story he knew by heart, using all those words so well-known. And Kurt tried very hard to listen not with the ears of a little boy this time, but with all that he knew now and had learned since then, about people and romance and life.

It was not easy, because the mere flow of his fathers narration, the sound of his voice, brought him back so naturally to countless evenings of goodnight stories, back to Kurt as a boy, and a bedroom with only the two of them in it.

But he found he could do it. Could see his mother in a new light through the words his father chose. Could think of her as a teenager, not unlike himself and his friends at school, with all that was living on their minds.

And Kurt actually became aware, that he had neglected to take that step, to adjust her image in his mind to all the things that had changed him from being a boy, to being where he was now. Instead, he had somehow left her there, in that bedroom, when they had been three persons sitting on that bed still, and she had held him in her arms.

He had left her there, and not taken her along, denying his memory of her to grow up with him.

And he never actively had thought about it, wouldn't have reckoned it was necessary, had always assumed his mind would catch up on its own accord. But he felt now that it simply hadn't, that all this now felt new somehow, even if it was the same story being told.

When Burt ended, the glass of milk was empty, and Kurt felt a glow to his own cheeks that he saw mirrored in Carol's face.

His limbs felt pleasantly heavy, because even though his mind was wide awake, his body really didn't want to fight the way it had been conditioned.

He let out a long contented sigh, slightly nodding to himself and made to get up, to get back to bed.

Burt's tone held him back. "Kurt? You wanna tell me what brought this on?" Kurt stopped and thought about it, then smiled and made sure all the affection he felt showed in his eyes and voice, when he shook his head.

"Not tonight, Dad. Some other time, maybe. But not now. I think I'll be able to sleep now."

And as he started to walk he let his fingers trail over the backrest of the couch, the slightest gesture, the lightest touch to his Dad's shoulder in passing. "Thank you, Dad. Carole."

And Kurt left them to mumble warm words to each other, more of endearment then of worry, and smiles were on all their faces.

* * *

><p>Minutes later, when Kurt had tucked himself in and was stretching languorously under the sheets again, he squinted sleepy eyes against the bright display light of his cell phone.<p>

He'd typed in a text to his boyfriend, even if Blaine was most certainly fast asleep by now, as it was well after midnight.

_You have quite a way, you know that? Love you.__ Kurt. _

He pressed 'send' and put the phone on the nightstand. Kurt knew he was being cryptic, and Blaine wouldn't probably know what to do with that message, when he'd read it in the morning.

But Kurt would explain it to him, eventually.

He smiled once more to himself.

And he really felt he'd be able to sleep now.

* * *

><p>Feedback is sooooooo welcome;)<p> 


End file.
